Last weekend we drove down to Devon to meet up with old friends to remember and celebrate the life and times of Jonathan Young, who had been a good mate since we met at school in 1972. He died from a heart attack in Italy last November, where he had lived in beautiful rural seclusion with his wife and five children for several years.
The reunion, of around 40 of us in the back room of a pub where we were refreshed by beer and curry as JY would have wanted, brought together people we hadn't seen for more than 30 years, and a feast of unrestrained nostalgia for what really were good times. I won't go on about what a kind, funny, lovely man he was, or about how much he is missed by his family and friends, but understand how true this is.
I drew this as N drove us back home to London along the M4 motorway as we dwelt on the weekend and our memories of him.
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